


Immortal Beloved

by Jaye_Voy



Category: Highlander: The Series, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:06:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaye_Voy/pseuds/Jaye_Voy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serendipity brings together two hearts ready for love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set almost a year after "Endgame". In Chakotay's POV, Methos's name is Peter, since that's how they were introduced.  
> Originally written in 2002. Although there are a few tweaks, the story's contents (and its flaws) are mostly intact.  
> Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property of Paramount. Highlander belongs to Davis-Panzer Productions. This is rated NC-17 for sex.

Ironically enough the eyes caught Methos's attention first, not the tattoo. He'd been standing by his terminal scrolling through his messages, absently noting meetings and policy memos, when a pair of intense dark eyes leapt out at him from the screen.

They were the deep brown of soil rich with life. There was an ageless quality about them as well, a serenity that the Immortal recalled his dark-eyed Highlander had never managed to attain.

At that stray thought Methos's hand automatically moved toward the Delete button, determined to erase anything that reawakened the echoes of his grief, however slightly. Three centuries had passed since Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod had lost his head and his life in a freak accident. For good or ill no Immortal was close enough to absorb his lifeforce. MacLeod's great spirit and all of the power he had gathered were released back to nature. It was just as well, for anyone who claimed the Highlander's essence would have become unstoppable. But Methos treasured the memories of his Scottish love, as he did the handful of other people he had cared for in his long life.

His mourning had lasted a hundred years before he'd bothered to seek out even casual companionship again. Never another Immortal though. Humans, mostly, usually as different from MacLeod as he could get. Not that it was hard to avoid his colleagues-in-eternity. They were a cautious lot, these days.

Medical technology had managed to make Immortals a truly endangered species. You had to be dead, well and truly dead, for at least a few minutes before the Quickening could occur. Between stasis chambers, cardio stimulators and cortical monitors people rarely stayed deceased for that long. Transporters also seemed to interfere with the process somehow, as if breaking down and reconstituting the body short-circuited the Quickening. The end result was a healthy, long-lived populace and continued secrecy, but very, very few new Immortals. Those that were left ignored The Game. Even the Watchers had practically abandoned their field observations. Now they were mainly interested in poring over the past.

Hazel eyes flicked to the image one last time as a long pale finger moved to complete its mission. Which was scrubbed the instant Methos's brain registered the unusual facial tattoo. Succumbing to grudging curiosity, Methos sat and folded his arms. He gave the screen his full attention.

The image accompanied an invitation to a private lecture by former Starfleet Commander Chakotay of Dorvan V. He was apparently a member of that headline-grabbing ship, Voyager, returned from the mysterious Delta Quadrant.

Methos recalled the Voyager frenzy that had gripped the media and the Federation for a solid month. At first he'd been casually interested in the gallant little vessel and its crew, but the information overkill and news saturation had pretty much soured him on the story. He did recall that Chakotay was one of the more publicity-shy members of the senior staff. Like Tuvok of Vulcan, he'd posed for a few group pictures, made a brief statement of appreciation for his crew's efforts, resigned from Starfleet, and disappeared from the public eye. A few weeks of refusing interviews soon convinced the fickle paparazzi to ignore him in favor of more forthcoming Voyager officers, turning them into media darlings.

Now it seemed the elusive ex-rebel had re-emerged, at least in a small way. Chakotay was presenting the first volume of his anthropological surveys of Delta Quadrant cultures, and also making the raw data available to the academic community. Methos was surprised the event was so low-key. Chakotay's credentials were above reproach, and the cachet of having a member of Voyager's crew at l'Université de Paris for the unveiling was a publicity department's dream come true.

But from the announcement, it appeared that the lecture and a small reception were a gathering of professors, researchers, and students. Reporters were definitely *not* invited. In his guise as an authority on antiquities, Methos of course was on the guest list.

His eyes returned to the photo. It didn't look as though Chakotay had changed much from the publicity stills that had splashed every media outlet upon Voyager's spectacular return. He was a handsome, black-haired man in his early forties, whose dark-honey skin set off the curious indigo tattoo. The marking stirred vague memories of ancient empires, but Methos couldn't quite place it.

He snorted. This was going to bug him. He hated not knowing the little details. His eyes narrowed. Methos could spend a couple of weeks paging through his journals or do some hunting in the university database. Or he could go to the lecture and ask the man himself. With one last glance at the dark gaze Methos sent his acceptance of the invitation.

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Chakotay stared at his reflection and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to adjust his clothes or fiddle with his hair. He'd managed the lecture itself with ease. After all, he had taught hundreds of Starfleet cadets in his four years at the Academy. And the question-and-answer session afterward had been invigorating, the chance to stretch his intellectual muscles that he'd been hoping for.

But now he was getting ready for the reception. He had a feeling that the inquiries here would be of a much more personal nature. He wasn't sure he was up to the interrogation.

Seven was responsible for a large measure of his uncertainty. She'd knocked him for a loop last year, pursuing his company with Borg single-mindedness. He'd been flattered, and originally attracted more by her mind than her body. He thought her unique experience of a multitude of cultures would give them some common ground. He was also one of the few people on Voyager who knew what it was like to be a member of a Collective, even if his experience wasn't quite the same as assimilation. Chakotay also wanted to find out if he could coax forth more of the warmth and humor he suspected lay beneath Seven's icy exterior.

So they'd cautiously started dating. Chakotay had believed Seven was as committed to building a relationship as he was. She was inexperienced in many ways, so he had been very careful to take things slow physically. By the time their first kiss rolled around, he'd thought he was on track to forming a lifelong connection with the self-contained blonde.

Then Admiral Janeway had come along to rattle Seven's outlook on things, including their relationship. When the crisis came Chakotay had risen to the occasion, offering Seven a pledge from the heart. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. By the time they'd reached the Alpha Quadrant Seven had dumped him. Her interest stopped as abruptly as it had started. And while she had blithely moved on to the Doctor, he'd been left wondering whether it was something he'd done or something he was---or wasn't---that had changed her feelings.

Although caught in the whirlwind of parties and publicity surrounding Voyager's return, Chakotay was simply not in the mood to celebrate. He returned a free man, but with few real connections left outside his shipboard family. The thought of staying in Starfleet turned his stomach, so he'd resigned as soon as he was able. Seven years of back pay left him comfortably set, so he indulged his lifelong love of archaeology and anthropology. He'd given himself time to organize his notes and observations, and process his experiences aboard Voyager, including those with Seven. Eventually he'd tired of his solitude, thus this impromptu return to the academic world.

He'd always wanted to see Paris, and figured if he was going to attempt the dating scene again the place to do it was the City of Love. B'Elanna had been thrilled to hear about the trip. Tom had made him promise to take a jaunt to Marseilles to see Sandrine, since B'Elanna was keeping her husband pretty close to home these days. Neither of Chakotay's friends had said it, but he was sure they wished him luck in finding a traveling companion.

***************

Methos leaned against a paneled wall and sipped his drink. He'd actually enjoyed the evening. Chakotay was a master storyteller and he spun quite a tale. Learning about new, completely unfamiliar species had stimulated the Immortal's imagination, and the lecturer had stimulated his senses. Chakotay's voice was the kind you didn't hear so much as wrapped around yourself and snuggled into, and the man's enthusiasm had given his rugged features charm and life.

He wondered if Chakotay would be as compelling up close and personal. Methos had quickly worked the room, getting all the necessary chit-chat out of the way before the guest of honor arrived. He'd done a little research and now had quite a few questions for the man of the hour.

The second the door opened and Chakotay strode in Methos was struck with a tingling awareness. Not just the gut-level pull of attraction, but also the warning prickle of a potential Immortal. He nearly fled, driven by centuries-old instinct to avoid such complications in his life. Caught in the moment before flight, Chakotay walked up to him and he was trapped. He forcibly relaxed and smiled, putting out a hand. "Mr. Chakotay, very nice to meet you."

Chakotay quickly shook the offered hand, resisting the urge to retain a hold of the long pale fingers. "Mr. Adamson, yes? I was hoping you'd be here. I wanted to thank you." He was glad the tall man was so close to the door. When he'd stepped up to the podium earlier this evening he'd caught sight of hazel eyes and a bold nose dominating an unusual but attractive face. He'd also had an impression of a long, loose-limbed body, before he'd focused on his lecture. He had asked for a name the second he could, and learned of Peter Adamson's notoriously reclusive ways. So he hadn't expected, but certainly hoped, to see the university's antiquities expert at this little soirée.

"Thank me? Whatever for?" Methos's eyes crinkled in puzzlement. He was also a little disappointed to lose the clasp of that strong tawny hand and gave himself another mental shake.

"For chuckling at so many of my jokes. I didn't know whether anyone would notice I slipped them in. You either have a finely honed sense of humor or a very polite nature---I'm not sure I want to know which was responsible." Chakotay grinned, but his memory was filled with the taller man's smile. It absolutely transformed his face, and Chakotay wasn't likely to forget the sight any time soon.

Methos found himself wanting very much to see the flash of those beguiling dimples again. He leaned in to share a secret. "Let me reassure you. Even if some of the university chairs frown at the 'irreverent touch of frivolity', the students were very appreciative." He couldn't help his own smile. "As was I."

Chakotay nodded in gratitude and felt his own lips quirk again in automatic response to the curl of that wide mouth. He vaguely wondered what it tasted like before jolting himself back to business. "Well, I have a lot of people to meet and greet." He held out his hand again. "Thank you for being such an attentive audience, Mr. Adamson, and for your time."

Methos retained his grip and opened his mouth to ask about the tattoo. He was a little surprised at what actually came out. "Have you seen much of the city, Mr. Chakotay?"

A pleased warmth mixed with Chakotay's startlement. "It's just Chakotay, and no, I've only seen the university grounds. Lovely, but hardly the essence of Paris."

Methos made the offer. After all, he figured, there was no one better equipped to be a local guide. "Peter, please. If you're not leaving right away, would you like a whirlwind tour?"

Oh, very much so, was Chakotay's immediate thought. "Thank you. If you can spare the time I'd really appreciate the company."

The sense of rightness eased the knot of anxiety in Methos's gut. He was even getting used to the zing of mingled attraction and pre-Immortal spark. "I know which hotel the university always uses to house their guests. How about I pick you up there at five."

"A.M.? Is anything open then?" Chakotay didn't really care about the early hour but didn't want to be so obvious about his eagerness to meet again.

"A few cafés. The best way to start your affair with Paris is to see her wake up in the morning." At Chakotay's nod Methos smiled and made his way out of the hall, steps lightened by anticipation.

Chakotay sighed in appreciation at the view, then shook his head at his own wayward thoughts. He hadn't been involved with a man since before he joined the Maquis. Then again, he'd never met such an instantly compelling one as Peter Adamson. There was something about him...Chakotay sensed he was an old soul. He shrugged, then turned to begin the long evening of smiling and hand-shaking as he waded into the sea of academics.

************************************************************  
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Chakotay hesitantly followed Peter through a weathered wooden door practically hidden behind a curtain of ivy in an old stone wall. "Are you sure this isn't private property?" he asked, gazing at the small enclosed park.

"Trust me, I've been here plenty of times." Methos briskly walked across the grass, heading for a tall, loose-limbed tree near a pond. He turned to beckon, "Come on." He chuckled at the uncertain expression on his companion's face. His heart felt brighter than it had in decades.

Chakotay stirred him in so many ways. He responded to Paris with a refreshingly unspoiled sense of wonder grounded in a thorough knowledge of the city's millennia-long history. He reawakened Methos's own love of the place he'd called home for so long. They'd visited the Eiffel Tower and Notre-Dame, of course, but Chakotay had also been interested in more out-of-the way places the usual tourist never sees. And Methos had heartily agreed when his companion nixed a trip to the Louvre, Chakotay admitting he would rather wait until he had the time to fully absorb its treasures.

Their conversation over the course of the day had ranged across a dozen topics. Methos confirmed the two were well-matched intellectually, and their differences in background and perspective sparked lively, good-natured debates.

Methos had also found himself physically drawn to the other man. Before the morning was out they'd started sharing each other's space. He'd been standing and walking close enough to Chakotay to catch his clean, earthy scent and to confirm that his skin was indeed as smooth as it looked from farther away. Much to his own chagrin, Methos had also caught himself several times unconsciously lagging behind to watch Chakotay's simply stunning derriere in motion.

They'd lunched at a small family-run bistro Methos often frequented, and the French-speaking owners had complimented him on landing such a fine-looking beau. Methos could still feel the flush on his cheeks from when Chakotay's equally embarrassed explanation that they were colleagues revealed that he understood their comments and held a fair grasp of la belle langue.

Still, Chakotay hadn't seemed shocked or annoyed. He'd given Methos a look from under his lashes that hinted he just might be favorably disposed toward the idea. Methos was going to throw caution to the four winds and take a chance, but he needed some privacy. Thus this illicit little trip onto the grounds of a manor he knew was unoccupied due to ongoing renovations.

Chakotay watched his companion's easy, graceful stride as they headed toward the water. He hadn't felt so close to another person in a long time. Certainly he and Seven had never shared such a quick, profound rapport.

He sighed. He'd been caught off guard by the restaurateurs' assumption of a relationship between Peter and himself. But he would very much like one. The man's mix of sly wit, deceptive cynicism, and simple joie de vivre made Chakotay feel more alive than he had in a long time.

Chakotay also couldn't remember ever being so turned on just looking at another person. Peter's thick mop of dark hair invited his fingers to card through the glossy locks. He wanted to see the flush of arousal and fulfillment heat the cool pale skin as he learned the contours of that long wiry body. The heady, giddy whirl of desire in his mind and heart made him reckless. He was determined to discover the texture and flavor of those wryly curving lips.

His thoughts stopped with his body as he blinked. Peter had just disappeared. Or rather, he'd slipped behind the foliage of the tree they'd been walking toward. Long thin branches filled with leaves arced to the ground, creating a living screen. Chakotay cautiously parted the twigs and stepped through, letting them swing behind him.

A fair bit of ground was hidden, along with the tree's slim trunk. The light here was a muted green, and the air seemed hushed and still. Peter's tall figure was casually draped on a wrought-iron bench that had probably been placed there when the tree was a mere sapling. He was grinning as he spread his hands. "You like?"

Chakotay didn't care whether Peter was referring to himself or the locale, the answer was the same. "Very much."

"Have a seat." Methos shifted and patted the spot beside him. He was pleased that Chakotay took him literally, sitting close enough for their thighs to brush.

Chakotay closed his eyes and tilted his head back, deeply inhaling the scent of nature. "When I got back to the Alpha Quadrant, it took me a while to get used to the smell of real air again. As well as the idea that I couldn't just shut off the rain with a command."

Methos turned slightly and leaned one arm against the back of the bench. "Too many hours in the rarified atmosphere of ships and holodecks?"

"Too many years." Chakotay grinned ruefully and opened his eyes to meet a soft gray-green gaze. "My cousin lent me his vacation house---a cabin in the Appalachian Mountains. I've been staying there, getting used to real gravity again, the change in seasons." He shook his head. "I'd forgotten just how cold it needed to be for it to snow."

Methos chuckled. "Don't tell me you forgot to pack your long johns."

"And my parka. Mostly because I hadn't needed one for such a long time."

They sat in silence a moment, each man acutely aware of the other. They both turned and spoke in the same instant.

"Chakotay---"

"Peter---"

They laughed, then Methos gestured for Chakotay to go first.

Chakotay shrugged. "I was just wondering if you'd like to accompany me on a trip to Marseilles. I promised a friend of mine that I would drop by a bar there and give the proprietress his respects."

"A bar in Marseilles? Yes, I'll come with you, if only because nobody should be walking some of those streets alone. There are still some pretty rough customers in that town." Methos's heart skipped at the light that entered the dark eyes.

"Thank you." Chakotay smiled at the ridiculous bubble of happiness in his chest. "Your turn now."

"I've been meaning to ask you all day about your tattoo." Methos wrestled down the urge to trace the whorls and lines, but it was a struggle.

"It's a symbol created by some very distant ancestors of mine," Chakotay explained. "They were predecessors of the Mayans, a tribe called the Rubber Tree People. And as I discovered in the Delta Quadrant, the mark also belonged to a group of aliens my people called the Sky Spirits."

"Yes, I remember now." The symbol was ancient even when Methos first walked the Earth.

"You remember? Just who do you think you are, Father Time?" Chakotay's teasing was leavened by the fond smile he gave his companion.

"Very funny." Methos leaned a little closer. "Actually, there was one other thing I wanted to ask you."

"What's that?" Chakotay whispered.

"If I may kiss you." Methos leaned in, but waited.

"Please do," Chakotay said as he tilted his head and closed his eyes. He sighed in contentment as he felt the brush of lips against his own. He lifted a hand and gave in to temptation, sliding fingers into the dark strands of Peter's hair to cup his head. He turned more fully into the embrace, his other hand stroking along a slender shoulder.

Methos felt the warm lips beneath his part and groaned as their tongues began a subtle dance. The arm along the back of the bench naturally slid around Chakotay's shoulders, while the other skimmed down Chakotay's side to find the hem of his shirt and slide beneath it to reach soft skin.

They continued to touch and taste each other, pressing their bodies closer as arms and legs tangled. Chakotay lifted his knee to teasingly trace the seam of Peter's jeans. When he reached the apex, he applied light pressure to the erection outlined in denim.

Methos lifted his hips a little, increasing the sweet torture against his sex. He slid off Chakotay's full lips and licked along the firm jaw to the flesh under one ear. He closed his teeth around the succulent morsel, sucking it strongly.

"Oh..." The sound devolved into a low moan. Chakotay's fingers tightened involuntarily as the mouth on his neck bestowed an ever-so-slightly painful pleasure. His hands dropped to the slender waist, gathering material to push the sweater up, baring a smooth pale torso. He bent to suckle a pale pink nipple, feeling the body in his hands arch toward him. His approving growl traveled with his mouth across the delicate skin to the other pebbled bit of flesh. He laved the nub with his tongue, then blew, watching the peak stiffen further.

Methos groaned, tantalized by the shift from warmth to coolness. He pushed away a moment and tore off his top, then reached to remove Chakotay's. Both men were breathing heavily.

The second their chests were bare Methos and Chakotay renewed their embrace. Methos slid them gently down to the grass on their sides as they kissed once more, hands running along backs and chests, bronze skin sliding against ivory.

Chakotay's hips thrust against more slender counterparts as he nibbled a swan-like neck. His hands returned to roll Peter's nipples and lightly run his nails along shivering flesh.

Methos's hands found their way to Chakotay's trousers. He quickly undid them and slid his fingers underneath the waistbands to cup that rounded ass. His hands were filled with the firm globes as his fingertips danced along the edges of the cleft. He broke their kiss and nuzzled under Chakotay's jaw. "Let me," he whispered into sweet honey-colored skin.

"Anything," Chakotay answered, then with a last sigh slid back. He propped his head on one hand as he stroked the other down Peter's side. "What did you have in mind?"

The sultry question was matched by the heat in the brown eyes. Methos's cock swelled even more. He smiled. "What I have in mind isn't possible in this venue. But let's get naked anyway."

Chakotay smiled back. "It's a good start."

They stood as one to toe off their shoes and shuck their trousers and underclothes. When they were done they paused a moment, just looking at each other.

Chakotay's eyes roamed Peter's body, his lips parting a little as he measured the large hands and feet against the equally impressive cock. He continued up the long torso and slender neck to the handsome face. He smiled and raised his brows. "So what would you like me to let you do?"

Methos gazed at the sleek form. He wanted to taste every single inch of the smooth tawny skin, to learn the muscles beneath them. He stepped forward and laid his hands against the powerful chest, palming the small dusky nipples. He teased them to hardness, then brushed his straining cock against its darker mate. "For now, this," Methos said as he slid to his knees and took Chakotay's dick in his mouth.

Chakotay breathed a startled moan as his flesh was encased in wet heat. His hands automatically reached to brace themselves on broad shoulders. He felt a talented tongue sweep around the crown and slide down his shaft. One long-fingered hand played with his balls while the other slipped around to probe delicately at his opening. Chakotay shuddered under his lover's ministrations and ground out, "Peter, it's time."

Methos hummed his assent and pressed closer, his nose buried in the soft black hairs of Chakotay's groin. The musky scent was soon joined by a salty flavor as Chakotay groaned and climaxed. Methos swallowed it all, savoring the moment. He released the softening cock and blinked as Chakotay sank down to his knees to seize his mouth in a fierce kiss.

Chakotay tasted himself on Peter's tongue, salt mixed with the sweetness of the mouth joined with his. His hands slid from throat to chest to ribs, then curled around his lover's gracefully curving erection. He leaned back a little to look into dilated hazel eyes, then gently pushed the long body down to the grass.

Methos looked up into appreciative dark eyes and relaxed. He moaned softly as Chakotay lapped at the hollow of his throat. Then soft lips moved down the center of his chest and sternum, pausing to let teeth sample the skin of his navel. He felt a quick kiss to the head of his cock, then long licks up and down its length. He thrust and groaned. Chakotay responded by running his lips slowly down the straining shaft. It was a torturous, delicious preview until finally Methos felt his cock fully enclosed. Then strong hands settled on his hips as Chakotay began to bob slowly up and down, his tongue and teeth offering extra stimulation.

The heat and wetness and suction increased as the pace sped up. Methos tried to lift himself higher but implacable hands held him down. He felt fingers leave his hips and wander between his legs to caress his sac, encouraging his balls to draw up even tighter. Then a knuckle pressed the sweet spot just behind them and Methos shouted in pleasure.

Chakotay felt the slim body beneath him heave and relaxed his hold, letting Peter's cock slide a little farther into his throat as liquid pulses slid down to warm his belly. He sucked his way up the shaft, tasting his lover's seed. A last lick at the tip and he drew away, collapsing beside Peter.

Methos turned his head and was shocked that Chakotay's mouth could look even more sexy, swollen and rosy and glistening with a faint sheen. He grabbed his new lover's dimpled chin and pulled Chakotay forward so he could lick his way across the lush curves. Then he leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

They lay a few moments in silence, staring up at the canopy of leaves.

"I don't usually do this," Chakotay said.

Methos smiled. "What? Have sex with a virtual stranger? Have sex with a man? Have sex outdoors?"

Chakotay glanced over with a sheepish shrug. "All of the above."

Methos shifted so he could see Chakotay's face. His own fell into lines of concern. "Are you sorry?"

"No, but I am a little confused," Chakotay answered honestly. "I've never been so drawn to someone. I guess I'm trying to decide if it makes me a slut if I ask, 'Your place or mine' so soon. And if I can handle a one-night-stand, even though I really do want you."

Methos reached over and traced Chakotay's tattoo. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he was as helpless as Chakotay to fight the attraction between them. "I would say your place to get your things, my place to stay the night." He ran his finger down a high-boned cheek and hoped the truth of his next words showed in his eyes. "And you're not a one-night stand. At least I very much hope not. But this *is* sudden. So let's just take things as they come until we're back from Marseilles."

Chakotay smiled at the softness in the hazel eyes, then grinned as he considered his lover's words. "Were those double entendres deliberate?"

"Of course. I wanted you to keep the main event in mind. You did say 'Anything'," Methos replied and leaned in for another kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

"I still can't believe you live on Ile Saint Louis," Chakotay said, his voice reflecting his wonder. "This place is absolutely incredible."

Methos smiled as he watched Chakotay run an admiring hand along the marble mantelpiece. It was crafted in 1636, the same year as the rough stone walls and wooden beams and floors of the building Methos had owned under various names for over two hundred years. He found he enjoyed living on this small island in the middle of the Seine at the heart of Paris. The contrast of ancient streets and modern conveniences resonated with his own blending of the past and future.

Plus the building itself called to him. It had started as some aristocrat's manor house, but it had been split into generous apartments some time in its long history. Former owners had all treated the grand structure with the reverence it deserved. In all of the four apartments---each one took up the entire floor---replicators and recyclers lived quite happily next to terra cotta tiles fired in the 17th century.

The 12-foot-high ceilings had never been tampered with, and the kitchen and bathroom were indeed fit for royalty, though admittedly of a more modern age. The exterior was similarly maintained, and the place offered a view of the bustling excitement of the village out the front windows but a serene, secluded courtyard in the back. The sturdy yet cozy antique furniture that came with the property had clinched the deal.

Methos had claimed the entire basement for storage, and lived in the second-floor apartment. It was high enough not to be invaded by street sounds, yet close enough to the ground to offer a quick escape if the need ever arose. He felt at home here.

And the Immortal couldn't deny Chakotay looked right at home. He seemed to fit, with his love of both technology and antiquity. From the moment he walked in he seemed to belong, an intrinsic part of the space.

Chakotay had offered to make dinner, so they'd stopped at a farmer's market on the way back. Methos had enjoyed watching his new lover at work in the kitchen, the strong but graceful hands whipping up Mushroom Charlemagne on brioche with a simple salad followed by cherry sorbet. The results would have done any French chef proud.

After dinner they'd sat at the table for an hour or so before finally cleaning up the kitchen, talking all the while. Chakotay had then wandered around with a last glass of wine, admiring the architecture of the rooms. Methos sat or leaned against a wall, simply admiring him. He could easily envision Chakotay curled up in a wing chair reading a book, puttering around the kitchen making coffee or tea early in the morning, frowning over his data in the library, leaning against the stone railing of the bedroom balcony looking at the courtyard, writhing underneath him on the living-room hearthrug while the firelight turned his body to flame...

Methos blinked. That last one began a whole new series of pictures, Chakotay naked against every surface in the apartment, moaning in ecstasy. His own body reacted predictably to the enticing images and Methos decided it was time to do something about it. He swallowed the last of his wine and stood. "Are you ready for bed?"

Chakotay took one look at his lover and easily read the arousal in the hazel eyes. "Ready for anything," he replied, his voice husky. And he was. He wanted whatever Peter was willing to share with him. Chakotay felt entirely comfortable in this amazing place that had retained its old-world charm throughout the centuries. With a similar serenity he knew that he could trust himself to the care of those slender hands. Somehow, on a level that went beyond thought or emotion or instinct, Chakotay knew that this---they---were right together. He had fallen deeply, completely in love, and was determined to go wherever the feeling led him. Which was right into Peter's arms.

Methos searched Chakotay's eyes as his lover put down his glass and approached. He sank into them, dark and deep and knowing. And open. There were no secrets in those eyes, just caring and wanting. Then the sooty lashes came down as Chakotay stepped into his embrace and kissed him, lips and hands caressing.

Methos's arms encircled his partner's waist as their kiss deepened, their mouths tasting of wine and cherries and spices. He brushed his tongue along Chakotay's palate, feeling a shiver of response. After timeless moments they parted to breathe. Methos moaned and tilted his head forward as soft lips moved to explore his face.

Chakotay smiled at the sound but continued to run his lips along Peter's high cheekbone to his temple, then up to the forehead and down the large nose. He returned to the wide mouth for the briefest instant before heading past the chin to the slim column of white throat that begged to be nipped and tasted. His hands naturally wandered to explore the length of his companion's back.

Methos slid his palms down to cup Chakotay's buttocks and pull him forward, pressing their lower bodies together. He rocked his hips from side to side, heightening the sensations. He felt the puff of air against his skin as Chakotay gasped. He released Chakotay and grabbed one hand. "Bed," he said, leading the way.

Chakotay watched Peter's loose stride and snug, perky ass. Even in his aroused state he admired the room he was pulled into, glass-paned doors open to a small balcony, white curtains lazily shifting in the faint breeze. Patterned carpets in warm reds broke up the oak floor. Antique furniture glowed with a lightly polished sheen, and the clutter of books and clothes gave the place a lived-in ambience.

Dominating the space was a beautiful wooden-frame bed, its thick mattresses and fluffy pillows covered in white linen. The light from lamps scattered around the room gave everything a golden glow.

Chakotay was led to the edge of the bed and set upon it. He looked up at Peter, noting the slightly puffy pink lips and glittering eyes. He raised his brows in silent inquiry.

Methos gazed for a long moment at Chakotay, then lifted one finger in a gesture to wait. He quickly moved to the bathroom and rummaged around his closet, pulling out a bottle of massage oil. He opened it to the scent of sandalwood, then quickly recapped the container and moved back into the bedroom.

Chakotay had slipped off his shoes and socks, brushing his toes over the fibers of the carpet that lay under and around the bed as he leaned back on his hands. He looked up to see Peter move to sit beside him, placing a bottle on a small tray set on a bedside table. When Peter turned back, Chakotay lifted his hands to frame the handsome face. "Anything." 

In that instant Methos made a decision that reversed centuries of self-protective instincts, but felt right. He leaned in to press a quick kiss to Chakotay's full lips, then straightened. "I want you to make love to me," he said softly. He could see surprise, then heat in the brown eyes. He smiled.

Chakotay used one finger to trace that curving bow, then nodded his assent and claimed another kiss, this one full of passion and promise. He traced the contours of Peter's mouth, running his tongue along the slick inner walls. At the same time he began to lift Peter's sweater, breaking their connection a moment to pull off the garment and toss it somewhere past the foot of the bed. Then he knelt on the floor to quickly get rid of Peter's footwear.

Methos watched Chakotay stand and push him to lay across the bed. He did and felt warm fingers quickly unfastening his trousers. Then the pants and his boxers were eased over his erection. He lifted his hips and the clothes were drawn away.

Chakotay rose and paused a moment to absorb the sight of his lover. Alabaster skin covered wiry muscles and elegant bones. Peter's shoulders were broad and his chest well-defined without offsetting the overall slenderness of his frame. His long, curving cock seemed to beckon Chakotay, who complied with a quick sucking brush to the rosy head.

Methos shuddered at the brief, teasing contact. He sat up and shifted to the center of the bed as Chakotay pulled away to undress. He could feel his arousal increase with each inch of tawny, muscular flesh revealed. Then Chakotay settled down beside him for another kiss. Methos laid his hands on his lover's shoulders and sighed into the embrace.

Chakotay ran his hands down the beautiful man beside him, making his way to the trim waist and below. He ran his fingers along Peter's flanks, teasing the crease at the top of one leg. He cupped Peter's sac in one hand, rolling the balls in his palm to an appreciative moan. 

He smiled softly, then stretched to snag the bottle of oil. He wrapped his hand behind Peter's upper knee and drew one long leg over his own hip. After coating his cock and his fingers with the scented fluid he traced the cleft of Peter's buttocks. He brushed one finger across his lover's hidden portal, and watched the expressions ghosting across Peter's face as he breached the opening.

Methos groaned, relaxing into the tender touch. Chakotay slicked him with one finger, then two. He laid his hands against Chaktoay's chest, rubbing the soft skin and admiring the contrast in their coloring. Suddenly a near-forgotten stab of pleasure shot through his body. His breath caught as he began shifting his hips, fucking himself on those dancing fingers.

Chakotay was mesmerized by the sheer carnality of the vision before him. He leaned forward to run his teeth along his lover's collarbone as he slid one more finger inside the hot channel that awaited him, taking care to target the hidden gland. When he was sure he wouldn't cause any pain, he removed his fingers and shifted Peter's leg higher, so it encircled his own waist. He slid into his lover's long pale body in a single smooth glide.

Methos whispered Chakotay's name as he was filled with Chakotay's solid length. He arched into the sensation and felt the head of his cock slide along his lover's smooth bronze belly. Then Chakotay began rocking to an ancient beat, and Methos closed his eyes, sparks jumping in the darkness each time Chakotay's cock hit his prostate. He began grunting in rhythm, twisting a little as the feelings built inside him.

Chakotay groaned and panted, driving into the channel that clasped his cock with every stroke. One hand moved to Peter's ready and dripping cock. He surrounded it and started pumping while he moved to bite and lick at his lover's arching neck.

Methos felt himself gathering, inhaling, then the breath suspended for an endless moment. Suddenly he exploded into shards of fierce pleasure, groaning Chakotay's name, thrusting into the hand milking his spurting cock.

Chakotay's free hand gripped his lover's thigh as he surged forward, driving into the body arching toward him. He growled as his balls released their seed into the passage clamping around him.

Both men sighed and relaxed for a while. Chakotay slid out and gently lowered the captured leg, massaging the hip and thigh. He felt fingers in his hair and smiled, meeting a sated hazel gaze. He brushed his lips across his lover's, then retreated to the bathroom to grab and dampen a cloth. He quickly wiped himself down and re-rinsed the fabric. He caught his expression in the gold-framed mirror and shook his head at his own goofy expression of bliss. But he didn't try to change or hide it.

Methos stretched, long and languidly, as he watched his lover return. He basked in the glow of Chakotay's eyes, the tenderness of his smile. It had been a long time since the Immortal had felt so content. He purred low in his throat as caring hands quickly cleaned his skin. When Chakotay was done Methos rolled his body off the bed and turned down the covers on his side, then slid between the white sheets.

Chakotay moved off the mattress and carefully laid the cloth on the tray to protect the antique wood. Then he slipped in again on his side and automatically moved into waiting arms, pulling Peter's slender form against his own. "Thank you for today," he said softly, "it was one of the best of my life."

"Mine too," Methos said, wonder at this truth shading his voice. He felt Chakotay snuggle in closer as he called down the lights. "Good night, Chakotay."

"Sleep well, Peter." Chakotay brushed the backs of his fingers along one pale cheek, then settled down into his pillow and closed his eyes. He knew he was still smiling as he drifted off to sleep.

************************************************************

Methos sat with his head propped on one hand, seriously contemplating murder. He'd called up the lights just enough to see Chakotay's unconscious form glowing against the white sheets. The Immortal's gaze was troubled as his eyes traced his lover's relaxed features.

One strike with a knife would do it. One quick plunge to the heart and Chakotay would become an Immortal. Methos understood now why MacLeod had butchered his own wife on their wedding night. The Highlander didn't want to lose his beloved to death, so he made the decision to force her Quickening. So she could be by his side for eternity.

The idea was so very tempting. Methos ran one finger along Chakotay's jaw. He wanted Chakotay with him, always. He desperately wanted to tell his new lover---his love---the truth about himself. He wanted to hear his real name on Chakotay's lips, to share with him the knowledge gathered over the thousands of years of his life.

And he could do that, he supposed, while leaving Chakotay to finish out his normal lifespan. Methos had trusted a few mortals with his secrets, even one or two that he'd truly loved, like Alexa. Or he could stay silent and live 80 years or so with Chakotay, pretending to age as his companion truly did. Methos grinned. He'd bet that his beautiful bedmate would still be sexy at 120, his hair aged white and crotchety in the mornings.

Methos sighed, uncertain. He knew what Chakotay would decide, given a choice. He could easily picture Chakotay's insistence that he not force a fate that hadn't come naturally. After all, from what Methos had learned Chakotay *had* come close to death in the Delta Quadrant. More than likely the transporter had probably prevented the Quickening then, or the ship's doctor's swift intervention. No, Chakotay wouldn't kill himself, that much was certain.

For just a moment Methos considered the irony of falling in love with another brown-eyed Boy Scout. This time though, the thoughts of Duncan were bittersweet and comforting, not painful. He thought his Highlander would approve.

Methos called the lights down and nestled back into Chakotay's embrace, absurdly pleased when strong arms tightened around him even as Chakotay stayed deep in dreams. No, he couldn't kill this wonderful man, even to keep him. But keep him he would, for as long as time allowed.

************************************************************  
************************************************************

Chakotay ran his hands along the stones of Peter's balcony, feeling the lingering chill of early morning against his palms and bare soles. He'd awakened early and simply laid still, staring at the man who had so quickly captured his heart and soul. He hadn't noticed how long Peter's eyelashes were until the expressive hazel eyes were hidden. When he'd stopped himself for the third time from claiming those shell-pink lips he'd gotten out of bed.

He'd been glad of the chance to brush his teeth and perform his other morning routines. He dug through his bags for his robe and quietly slipped past his still sleeping companion to greet the dawn from the balcony. The waist-high stone parapet made him feel secure as he leaned over the edge to stare into the quiet courtyard. Flagstones traced a path through the grass and around a few tall trees. Chakotay thought the square could use some flowers, and maybe a small vegetable and herb garden tucked into a corner. Still, it was beautiful and peaceful.

Chakotay sighed and felt the calm reflected in his own soul. He knew there were many things he and Peter needed to learn about each other. But there was one surety: Chakotay loved the handsome, witty man more than he had ever thought possible. He hoped that last night had been the first of a lifetime together. With everything that was in him, he hoped so.

***************

Methos strolled out of the bathroom after his morning ablutions and caught the glimmer of the sun in Chakotay's black hair through the open French doors. His face immediately took on a wicked cast as he regarded the white-robed figure leaning on the balcony. The curves of that eminently fuckable ass were nicely accented by the cloth. He quickly grabbed the bottle of oil and strode out to meet his morning glory.

Chakotay startled to see one long-fingered hand set a familiar vessel on the wide flat stone next to him. It then joined its mate in peeling back the edges of his robe. A very aroused cock nuzzled his backside as the rest of a tall slender body pressed against him. He murmured a welcome and tilted his head as he felt a hot mouth sucking at his bared neck and shoulder.

Methos savored the sweet skin and approving moans for a few minutes, then worked his way up behind one ear. "I know you said 'Anything', but not 'Anywhere' or 'Anytime'," he whispered and nipped the lobe. "How about here and now?"

Chakotay turned his head a little to catch an impish gaze. He quirked an eyebrow. "What is it with you and outdoor sex?"

Methos grinned and slid his arms around Chakotay's waist, reaching for the knotted sash. "It's your influence, actually. You seem like a real nature lover." His fingers swiftly unfastened the belt, then leisurely traveled along satin skin as they slid the robe open and down until it merely hung from Chakotay's wrists and forearms. "I like the way your skin glows like honey in the sunlight."

"But what about your neighbors?" Chakotay's protest was half-hearted at best as those clever hands returned to tease his front while a long pulsing rod continued to tantalize his posterior.

Methos smiled in triumph as he licked, then murmured into Chakotay's nape, "They're probably not up yet, and they can't see anything anyway. We'll just have to be quiet." He slid one hand up to Chakotay's mouth, pretending to cover it, then moaned when the full lips opened to suck him in.

Chakotay's teeth and tongue worked the slender fingers in his mouth, shaping the fine bones a moment, then he released them. He lifted his hands from the wall, letting the robe slide to the floor, then ground his naked ass against Peter's groin. "Anything, anywhere, anytime." He heard a pleased hiss and saw Peter's hand retrieve the bottle. Chakotay returned his palms to the ledge and leaned against it slightly, spreading his legs.

Methos kicked the robe off to the side and opened the bottle of fluid. His eyes feasted on the sumptuous offering before him. He oiled his cock first, doubting he'd have enough control to pause at the appropriate moment later. He then slicked both his hands and cupped Chakotay's ass, kneading. He savored the silky skin and firm muscles as he worked the oil into the golden-brown globes. He heard his lover's sighs and shivers of reaction as he swept along the tops of the muscular thighs and worked his way into the cleft.

He paused for more oil, then wickedly played his fingers around the opening as Chakotay squirmed. Unable to resist temptation any longer, Methos plunged one finger through the natural resistance. He spread the lubricant against the hot velvet walls, then slid out for more oil and another digit. At two he began a careful thrusting, expanding his internal explorations.

Chakotay relaxed, trying to make the way easier for his partner. He lowered his forearms to the stones and spread his legs a little wider. He moaned in approval as Peter's mouth and free hand joined in to tease the skin of his back and sides. Then those long clever fingers inside him found just the right spot and he gave a strangled gasp. His gland was stimulated again and again, sending electricity along his nerves to stiffen his nipples and cock to aching readiness. "Please, Peter, now."

Methos nodded in agreement and used his slick fingers to part Chakotay's buttocks once more. He watched in fascination as his glistening cock began to be absorbed in darker flesh as he slowly sank into his lover's body.

Chakotay felt himself being stretched, filled. It had been a long time, and his lover was a little larger than the average man. "Spirits," he groaned, "You're splitting me in half!"

Fortunately Chakotay's broad warm palm immediately found its way to Methos's ass to grip and encourage, maintaining the Immortal's forward momentum and negating Chakotay's complaint.

Satisfied that Peter wasn't going to stop, Chakotay returned his hand to the stones. He felt slim arms encircle his waist, the hands immediately moving to Chakotay's chest. Peter's clever, teasing fingers began tormenting his nipples to almost painful arousal, a counterpoint to the faint burning in his ass. After an eternity of anticipation he finally felt the brush of pubic hair against his butt. He shuddered and then straightened, one hand running along the arms still exploring his skin. He pushed back and felt his lover's chest press against his spine.

Chakotay meant to simply give an appreciative sigh, but the thought slipped out unbidden. "Does it make me a helpless fool if I say 'I love you' so soon?" The second the words filled the air he turned his head, wanting to see Peter's face, holding his breath.

Methos felt the sudden tension in his lover's body, but his own filled with happiness. He leaned forward a little, one hand capturing Chakotay's jaw to deliver a kiss of love and passion. When he broke away he smiled. "No," he said, "It puts you in perfect company." The smile he received in return was more dazzling than the sunlight surrounding them. He pressed his forehead to Chakotay's, moved beyond speech.

Chakotay leaned his head into Peter's for a long moment, then turned back to look out onto a new and perfect day. He shifted his hips back and clenched internally. He grinned smugly at the expletive the move startled out of Peter. Then it was Chakotay's turn to groan, as Peter's cock pulled out and charged back.

Methos's hands ranged over the muscles of his lover's form as he began plunging into the sleek, welcoming body. He set his mouth against a bronze shoulder to keep from shouting his pleasure at each stroke. He heard Chakotay's own muffled sounds as their movements grew more wild and the feelings more intense. When he knew he was past the point of no return he grabbed Chakotay's hot, hard length and started squeezing and sliding, his hands slippery with oil and his lover's precum.

Chakotay drove back to match every lunge, biting his lip to keep from howling. He had been on the edge so long he was dazed by the continuous sharp bursts of pleasure and the building tension of anticipation. Finally, finally hands surrounded his cock and he thrust into their grip. He couldn't control his groan as he went over the edge, flexing and writhing as fulfillment sizzled white-hot through his veins.

Methos pressed Chakotay into the stones, using them and his grip to keep his lover's body in place as he drove his cock deep. His wild cries of pleasure kept time with each fierce movement as his semen burst from him, shooting forth to bathe his lover's core.

They were both trembling in the aftermath, intensely aware of their connection. Hands instictively moved to soothe and reassure, gentling each other down to comfort and peace.

Chakotay pushed himself back half a step from the balustrade. He felt Peter's hands come to rest crossed against his chest. He lifted his hands to clasp more slender counterparts. He raised the delicate knuckles to his lips and kissed them, then returned them to rest over his heart.

The stood for a while, silent, still pressed together, sharing the moment. Watching the light of morning grow stronger.

************************************************************

Marseilles was the same as Methos remembered it. In all honesty, it hadn't changed that much since he'd first visited the then-Phoenician settlement 3,000 years ago. It was still a bustling port filled with the calls of birds and the scent of fish, the quais lined with small boats and yachts. The narrow streets around the docks teemed with people from all planets and walks of life---including some who continued the venerable Marseilles tradition of smuggling.

He smiled ruefully at his own enjoyment. He and Chakotay had again played tourist, traveling by centuries-old rail lines to the southeast corner of France. Once in the city they'd trekked the "loop", walking the three sides of the Old Port and taking the ferryboat across to complete the journey.

He'd had a brief moment of real nostalgia when they later toured the Jardin des Vestiges---Garden of Ruins. The sight of the ancient pink limestone docks and fortifications glowing in the sun had stirred long-held memories. Chakotay hadn't understood his temporary melancholy, but had simply slipped comforting arms about Methos's waist for a hug as they sat among the remains of ages past. The scent and solid warmth of the body behind him had lifted the Immortal's spirits and soon they were off again to a tiny museum.

Chakotay had turned down a bowl of bouillabaisse, easily finding a Mediterranean vegetarian meal. But neither of them had been able to resist the navettes when the jaunty ship-shaped pastries had later called to them from a glass case at the front of a terrace café. A leisurely afternoon of people-watching had followed, then a small dinner by candlelight in a restaurant on a narrow sidestreet.

************************************************************

They'd walked hand in hand through the city until night fell and Sandrine's opened. Methos had shared Chakotay's instant approval of the shady lady, who laughed at the notion of Tom Paris being tamed by a temperamental half-Klingon. She flirted outrageously with them both, but seemed genuinely happy at their amour when she intercepted a hot look from Methos to Chakotay. She'd purringly asked them if they wanted a room. Methos couldn't believe how turned on he'd been when Chakotay blushed at the suggestion. He'd been forced to immediately turn his body toward the bar to hide his obvious reaction.

Chakotay sent a sidelong look at his lover and licked his lips at the speculative light in the hazel eyes. Now that he'd gotten over the shock of the suggestion, he welcomed visions of being dragged upstairs. Or maybe doing the dragging, tossing that long body over his shoulder for the trip then dumping Peter onto a rickety bed for a thorough ravishing.

Their gazes locked, communicating desire and need. Both men said, "Transporter," at the same time. Chakotay turned to meet Sandrine's knowing smile. "Thank you, but we need to get back to Paris." He kissed the lady's hand and promised to deliver her message to Tom.

Chakotay felt like skipping he was so happy as he and Peter returned to the narrow dark street. But of course he didn't. Their assured strides carried them past closed shops and a few residences spilling light onto the sidewalk. He would occasionally turn his head for a brief, heat-filled glance at his partner that always softened into a loving smile at the notion that this wonderful being was his. From the looks he got back theirs seemed to be a mutual appreciation society.

Both men kept alert to their surroundings, since they were in a rougher section of town and the transport station was several blocks away. It was simply bad luck that they caught a flash of movement in a dimly lit alley.

Long-trained reflexes caused them to stop and assess the situation. Two Ferengi looked up at them with guilty expressions that immediately hardened. The phasers in their hands glinted briefly, but neither Chakotay or Methos had enough time to dodge the bolts.

The anonymous aliens quickly dragged the bodies into the alley, concluded the illegal transaction the humans had interrupted and disappeared into the night without another thought for the men whose lives they changed forever.

************************************************************

Methos revived with a jolt and scrambled to his knees. The oldest Immortal turned to search for who he desperately hoped was the youngest. Chakotay's body lay unmoving a few meters farther down the narrow passage. Methos knew by the stillness as he approached that it was already too late to call for help. Sinking again to his knees Methos tenderly turned the limp form, laying Chakotay's head upon his thighs. He traced the tattoo, stroked the dark hair, and waited, barely daring to breathe.

After long minutes of heart-stopping anxiety, he nearly collapsed as he witnessed the first, gulping rush of air into Chakotay's lungs. The dark lashes fluttered, and then those ageless brown eyes looked up at Methos in confusion. Methos's own lips curled as he saw the full mouth open to ask what was probably the first of a million questions.

"Welcome to a brave new world, Chakotay," Methos said, then out of love and joy and sheer relief, he kissed his fellow Immortal.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcomed with great joy and constructive criticism is treasured as a rare gift.


End file.
